


A decade long regency

by MordredLJselfship (mordredllewelynjones)



Series: CA (canon accurate-ish) self ship verse [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Don't Like Don't Read, M/M, Murder, Not Reader Insert, POV Third Person, Polyamory, Season/Series 05, Self-Insert, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 03:33:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19265077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordredllewelynjones/pseuds/MordredLJselfship
Summary: Six months after the battle with Bane both Oswald and Ed are arrested and locked away. Mordred has to figure out what to do next.A Riddlesongbird fic.Self insert not reader insert.If you don't like it then don't read or interact.No sex or rude stuff in this story.





	A decade long regency

"The jury finds the defendant guilty. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, you are hereby sentenced to ten years in Blackgate penitentiary. Take him away officers."

"No! You can't do this! Jim, this is madness! I helped you! Who stood by your side when Bane and his men stormed the city? Me! You can't let them do this!"

"See you in ten years, Oswald" Jim Gordon replied coldly.

Oswald's eyes widened in surprise and despair at these words. Then his expression hardened, vulnerability replace with inexplicable rage. Jim Gordon had just made a very big mistake. "You'll regret this" Oswald spat viciously, struggling desperately as he was dragged away by two burly uniformed police officers "This has gone on long enough, old friend. Did you think that you could stab me in the back again and again and I'd just let you get away with like every other sap whose life you have ruined? Think again, Jim! You will pay for this!"

"Get him out of here already" Bullock called, having clearly grown bored of the theatrics. He was no doubt keen to get his business at the courthouse concluded as soon as possible so that he could hit the nearest bar. How predictable.

Oswald scanned the crowd of unfriendly faces and his gaze locked on to his one ally for a fraction of a second, his pale green eye glistening with tears, before he was pushed roughly through the door and out of sight.  

Mordred sighed heavily and hung his head. It took all the willpower he possessed not to run after Penguin and attempt to help him escape. Although since their arrest himself, Ed and Oswald had had limited contact they had managed to communicate to one another the course of action they should each take should the others be taken down. Despite the fact that it went against every instinct it had been decided that escape would only make things worse. Better to sit out whatever sentences were dished out and later be free rather than to live life eternally looking over one's shoulder. Vengeance could be taken when they were reunited in the future.

Such an agreement having been grudgingly made, Mordred had been left to watch helplessly as both Ed and Oswald had been cruelly snatched away from him, Oswald sent to Arkham and Ed carted off to Arkham. He himself would surely have followed Oswald to prison had his two boyfriends not both insisted at their separate trials that he was innocent. The trumped up charges of the GCPD hadn't had enough evidence to back them up so the police had been forced to let him go. His comrades had not been so lucky.

Mordred allowed the tidal wave of people making their way towards the door, keen to leave now that excitement of the trial was over, whisk him out into the main hall as if he was a leaf which had fallen into the river and was being swept along by the current. Ignoring the looks being shot  his way by gloating GCPD officers and the clamouring of the reporters who had flocked into the courthouse in hopes of an interview, Mordred extracted himself from the crowd and left by the backdoor without a thought spared to the disapproving words the security guard shouted after him.

To say that he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings was an understatement. The moment Oswald had been dragged from view all his interest in the world around him had died. Could one feel emotionally numb when they were so consumed with rage? He wanted nothing more than to make Commissioner Gordon and his men suffer. To hurt then kill them for what they had done, to make them pay for tearing his life apart but he resisted the urge. Oswald was more deserving of that honour.

The question now; the burning question, the one who's answer would dictate the rest of his life, was what did he do now? His orders from Ed and Oswald had been clear. He was to leave Gotham immediately and not return, not until they had been released at any rate. After the fiasco with the missing submarine they hadn't been left with much but over the past six months enough money had been put aside into offshore accounts to ensure that Mordred would be able to live out the rest of his days comfortably. The words 'Move on and forget about us' had gone unsaid but Mordred wasn't a naive fool, he had heard the implication regardless. He knew his lovers meant well. They obviously felt that it was the best way to keep him safe. To let him go, to lose his love but preserve his life. Love was about sacrifice, as Ed was so fond of saying. However, they were fighting a losing battle. Mordred didn't know what he was going to do for the next ten years but he knew one thing, he was staying right here in Gotham. He would never abandon them.

Sure, they would be livid at him for not obeying orders but he didn't care. So many people, his boyfriends included, often mistook blind obedience for loyalty. Mordred was not so misguided. He knew the difference and although he was a firm believer of the latter he forever shunned the former. He was not a natural follower and never would be.

This one thing decided Mordred; who had been wandering aimlessly up until now, occasionally aiming misjudged kicks at bits of rubble (most of the city still lay in war torn fragments) in frustration, set a course for one of the two remaining safe houses. When the GCPD had rushed in with arrest warrants they had taken everything but the most concealed assets of Penguin's criminal empire into their possession and until another alternative could be found that was all that was on offer for Mordred in terms of shelter. Luckily Oswald always demanded a certain level of luxury from even his least used bolt holes. He would be comfortable at least. A small mercy buried amidst an otherwise unforgiving day.

However, a well hidden safe house wasn't enough to protect him from the horrors of Gotham. Only power could do that, hence why the Penguin had pushed himself to the point of breaking to pursue it. Because no matter how much the likes of Jim Gordon liked to claim that without the presence of people like Oswald, Ed and Jeremiah Gotham would be a safe and crime free city that simply wasn't the case. Fear, crime and pain were forever rampant regardless of what so called super criminals were currently on the streets. Darkness was imbedded in the city's streets. A lesson a young Oswald Cobblepot had learnt long ago and a lesson that his former employee was determined not to forget. Up until Mordred hadn't had to concern himself with survival. Oswald's power had protected him from harm but that metaphorical umbrella had now been snatched away from him.

Now he was alone with no one and nothing he could count on other than the inescapable fact that sooner or later Penguin's enemies would track him down and hurt him for a mixture of pleasure, sport and revenge. Everything has a downside and this was one which came with having been practically joined at the hip with the King of Gotham and the city's most annoying riddle enthusiast.  

Then, suddenly, Mordred had an idea. Oswald's power was what had kept him safe until so why couldn't it continue to do so? One of the many facts about Gotham was that power vacuums were an opportunist's dream come true, if they could survive the inevitable bloodbath which would certainly happen in its wake that is. Right now, with news of Penguin and Riddler's incarceration just hitting the streets, the criminal classes would just be beginning to stir. However, when it came to usurping the king's throne Mordred had a key advantage.

A plan now starting to form in his mind, Mordred checked that the coast was clear before making his way inside his temporary home. His base of operations during these trying times. However, it became clear within seconds that he wasn't alone. Crashing sounds from the other room spelt out only one possibility, the not-so-safe house had been found and was being looted. No doubt the perpetrators felt that with Oswald and Ed behind bars they were free from repercussions. They would be proven wrong soon enough. Drawing himself up to his full height, which would have been impressive had he possessed Ed's towering 6ft but at a measly 5'7 left a lot to be desired when it came to intimidation purposes, and setting his expression into a cold murderous glare Mordred made his way slowly into the room. His hand lay gently on top of the handle of his sword but he tried his best to maintain a casual and calm demeanor. Looking as though you were in control was everything.

"Richardson. Blake. Hammond. Sampson. Good to see you gentlemen."

The four former henchman turned to look at him, crowbars and swag bags still clutched in their hands. A couple of them exchange a confused glance, obviously wrong footed by the greeting, but remained mute.

The appearance of these familiar faces charges plans somewhat. Mordred had originally planned to simply dispose of the intruders as quickly as possible. Not an enjoyable task but unfortunately necessary. Now though there was a chance that the massacre could be avoided. In fact, if all went well then this little break in could be the best thing to happen all day. All he had to do was play his cards right.

"Now, I am assuming you want the latest orders from the boss" Mordred said with feigned  confidence "After all, I doubt you would want to go through with your little burglary stunt if you didn't have to. Now I understand you families to feed which is why I won't say anything more about it but now that you are safe in the knowledge that your jobs are secure there is no need to steal from Penguin. It will only bring you hurt as I am sure you know. So, let's put those bags and tools down and get to work shall we?"

As he had expected this statement wasn't received well.

"Boss?! Penguin is in jail. I heard it on the news. He is finished!" the biggest one, Hammond, snapped. There was a murmur of agreement from within the ranks.

Mordred forced out an incredulous laugh. "You should know by now that that means nothing" he replied " How many times have people tried to take down Penguin? Name me one time when they have properly succeeded, when he has failed to climb back up to the top and wreak revenge on those who tried to put him down." He paused for dramatic effect whilst his audience gawked at him, not bothering to try formulating a response.

"So you see, being placed in Blackgate isn't going to slow him down one jolt. Jim Gordon may think that this city is now his but he is wrong. That is what Penguin wants him to think. Over the course of Penguin's sentence Jim will be thwarted at every turn by us, his every plan derailed and he will try and fail to find the source of his misfortunes whilst we watch from the shadows as we build an empire on top of the ruins of his broken dreams. When Penguin is released from Blackgate and Riddler is broken out of Arkham Commissioner Gordon will be convinced that he has the upper band. That they have nothing, that he has beaten them but he will be wrong. It is our job to ensure that Penguin leaves prison stronger than ever before and when he does I guarantee that we shall all be richly rewarded. Between the Penguin's  stronghold on the Gotham underworld and a chaos inducing series of heists from the Riddler which will stretch the police resources to their limits, Jim won't stand a chance. The city shall be ours and the GCPD shall be powerless to stop us. All that's needed is a little patience and loyalty."

As soon as he had finished speaking Mordred worried that he had perhaps gone a bit over the top, milked it a tad too much. He had learnt from watching the loves of his life that words were one of the most powerful weapons one possessed but although he had tried to follow their example his drama training had run away with him slightly. He just hoped he could pull it off.

There was a moment's silence whilst the men considered the proposal and it seemed for a moment as though it would receive a favourable response. Then Hammond saw fit to voice his opinion, therefore sealing his fate.  

"And where will we get our orders from, may I ask?" He practically shouted as he advanced menacingly, crowbar still in hand "Let me guess, from you. Well I am not going to take orders from the likes of you. You're nothing but a pathetic nobody! I doubt there are even a plan from the boss, you are just trying to muscle in on his territory and think you can play us for chumps. Well I won't have it. If anyone is going to take over Penguin's turf it's me and guess who's body is going to be the first to be left in the gutter?"

He lunged forwards but his found his progress halted by the flash of a blade. Mordred pulled his sword from its scabbard at lightning quick speed and, after giving it a deft little spin as he adjusted his grip and angle, he shoved the thin sabre blade down the man's throat.

Hammond's cry of pain was no more than a sickening muffled gurgling as blood rose up to join the deadly instrument in clogging up his windpipe. A second later the sword was removed only to be thrust forcefully into the man's stomach. A bloody patch began to soak through Hammond's shirt at the point of entry but he was too busy clutching desperately at his neck as he coughed up a crimson fountain. His almost silent screams didn't last long; however, and very soon he lay on still on the floor. Dead.

The remaining housebreaking party members looked from his body to their weapon wielding companion in terror, their slackened grip allowing the spoils of their plundering to drop to the floor as they awaited they own slaughter.

Mordred; who had maintained an eerily calm facade throughout the whole exchange, turned away from his victims body, slinging his sword over his shoulder with a casual finesse. Truth be told he had sincerely hoped to have achieved his goals without need of blood shed but, at the end of the day, this was Gotham and 'fear tactics' were ingrained into the system. Still, the less lives lost the better.

"Well, that's all cleared that up now" he said whilst a clever ruse of a cocky smile stretched across his face "So, to work."

The three remaining henchmen exchanged fearful glances before nodding and run full tilt from the building.

Mordred sighed and sank into a nearby chair. He aimed a thoughtful kick at the body on the floor in front of him as he rested his chin on his hands. It was going to be a long and difficult, not to mention lonely, ten years. That much was obvious. He just hoped that the expressions of surprised delight on the faces of the men he loved when he showed them the empire he had built for them would be worth it. That was, after all, all that Mordred wanted. To make them happy. The word owed him, Ed and Oswald happiness and despite what his boyfriends had told him he was going to take it. No matter what the cost.

                   **The End**  
  
  



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